


Falling Stars and Healing

by The_annoying_fangirl



Series: They Fell From the Sky [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Speeches, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 06:58:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14443863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_annoying_fangirl/pseuds/The_annoying_fangirl
Summary: It's been four years since the fall and Sibley wants to know how he could wait that long.





	1. Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little follow up to my last book! I take one-shot requests!

The woman walked in a quick pace towards the coffee stand, dark brown pony tale bouncing behind her. As she ordered her coffee she heard a man speaking rapidly some insane story about a detective. She rolled her eyes, paying and taking the cup out of the persons outstretched hand and walked over to listen to this man’s outlandish rambling.

“-then Derren walks away and by the time John gets back, the new body is in place and Sherlock is gone.” the man was sporting a scruffy beard and tired, guilty, eyes.

“Bullocks!” Lestrade exclaimed. Sibley sighed, shaking her head. Anderson and his conspiracy theories were getting old. Not only was it pointless, it was cruel. Giving hope when there is none. His idiotic speculations only delayed her grieving process in the beginning and caused her more pain than necessary. John had really chewed Anderson out when he put together what was going on.

“No-no-no-no-no, that’s how he did it! It’s obvious!” he exclaimed.

“Derren Brown? Let it go, Sherlock is dead.” Lestrade insisted. 

“Is he?” Anderson prompted. 

“Yes.” Sibley cut in, both men looked over, just now noticing her, “Yes, he is. Doesn't matter how many dumb conspiracy theories you come up with. How many fans you get in your stupid club. He's dead, Molly laid out the body, we buried it. He's gone.” she growled. 

“No, she’s lying. It was Jim Moriarty’s body with a mask on!” Anderson exclaimed. 

“A bungee rope, a mask, Derren Brown. Four years, and the theories keep getting more stupid. How many more’ve you got for me today?” Lestrade asked. Anderson began to explain a new thing and Sibley’s anger gave out. 

“Stop! Just stop it, Anderson! You and Donovan pushed everyone into believing my father was a fraud and because of that, he's dead. You're guilty and want to believe everything is fine, but it's not so just shut up. No matter what you say or plan, it's not going to change what actually happened.” she snapped. After four years, Sibley had finished grieving, some days were rough, but for the most part, she was better. Now that everyone was finally discovering Sherlock wasn't a fraud and everything was being brought up again, she was a little on edge. Anderson showing being an arse hole just made her want to punch something even more. Anderson looked down sadly and Lestrade wrapped an arm around her in a side hug. 

“What are you doing out here, love?” he asked softly, trying to steer them away from the origin conversation. Everyone knew being around Anderson and or Donovan was still rough for her, especially when Anderson wouldn't shut up. 

“My own personal, unplanned, press conference.” she said, with that she walked over to the flurry of reporters and climbed on a box, whistling. All the reporters turned to her before bombarding her with questions. The secret had been out right after Sherlock's death, he had a daughter. 

“So it's out. You idiots finally found out what everyone close to Sherlock Holmes already knew, he was no fraud. There's not much more to discuss other than that James Moriarty was a horrendous man who manipulated all of you fools into thinking he was an innocent children's actor. He then had his own daughter shot and killed, and made my father jump. So there it is. Quit showing up outside of his desk address, the poor landlady doesn't need your crap. Quit bombarding John and I on social media. Just quit. There's nothing more to tell. My father was and is innocent. Thank you.” she hopped off the box and walked away. 

“Headed to work?!” Lestrade called after her. 

“Not exactly!”

~~~

Sibley stood inside of 221B. She ran her hands on the shelves and wallpaper like she did years before, the first time she arrived. She had been finding herself here less and less lately, but with everything, she was back again. On occasion she'd come and play some sad tune on her violin or read a book or write or just sit on the floor with her eyes closed, remembering everything. Today she pushed the curtains open, allowing light to flood in, and buried herself in her father's old chair. It still smelled like him. Chemicals, ink, and cologne. It gave her comfort, even though Sherlock hadn't often been the one to surround her in comfort, it still calmed her. 

The door came open and she looked up to see John in the doorway. She sat up and gave him a sad smile. 

“Oh, sorry, didn't know you'd be here...” he said. She shrugged. Right after Sherlock had died, she and John packed up their things and moved out, more for John then her, he couldn't stand being in the flat anymore. She turned seventeen only a week after Sherlock’s funeral and lived with John for a year before going off to college. Full ride at Cambridge. Anyways, she had always taken to going to 221B when she needed to, she didn't want to push if all out. Forgetting sounded worse than remembering, so she made herself remember. As far as she knew, this was the first time in five years he had visited. 

“No, it's fine… I'm surprised though, thought you didn't like being here,” she said. Mrs. Hudson arrived behind Sherlock and walked inside 

“I didn't.” he said. 

“What changed your mind?” she asked. 

“Well I decided I needed to cause I- I'm moving on.” he said. Sibley’s face broke out into a grin. 

“You're emigrating.” Mrs. Hudson said, causing Sibley to chuckle at the woman. 

“No. I've met someone. Sibley knows her.” John said. 

“Finally. I've been waiting for the two of them to get engaged. Where’s the ring?” Sibley asked as Mrs. Hudson grinned and clapped excitedly. John smirked and pulled out a small back box and handed it to the twenty-two year old. She took it excitedly and she and Mrs. Hudson gawked at the shiny object.

“What's his name?” she questioned. 

“It's a woman!” John exclaimed. Sibley began to laugh. 

“A woman?! My, you really have moved on!” she exclaimed. 

“Mrs. Hudson, how many times? Sherlock was not my boyfriend.” he said. Sibley was dying on the floor at this point. 

“You, stop.” John pointed at her. She took in a few gulps of air. 

“Oh, God, I'm sorry,” she came down to a chuckle as she wiped at her eyes. 

“Well, thank God you've finally decided to put a ring on it… I should go. I expect a call once the deed is done though.” she smiled, standing.

“Yeah, tell Willa I said hi,” he said, mind 

“Will do, you can bet she’ll want to hear all about this. She’ll be so excited. Maybe even stop pestering me to get married since you’re doing it,” she laughed.

“Or maybe it’ll make her more determined,” he said. She laughed.

“We’ll wait and see. See ya guys!”

~~~

Meanwhile a freshly shaven and stitched up Sherlock Holmes stood in his elder brothers dark office, straightening the new belstaff.

“Where’s my old one?” he asked.

“Sibley has it. I didn’t have the energy to try and wrestle it from her when I could just buy a new one,” he stated. 

“Speaking of, I think i’ll surprise her, and John, they’ll be delighted,” he said.

“You think?” Mycroft asked, his lizard like smile spreading across his face.

“I’ll pop into Baker Street. Who knows- jump out of a cake!” he exclaimed.

“Baker Street? They’re not there anymore,” his brother replied. Sherlock frowned. “Why would they be? It’s been five years. Sibley is twenty-two and John’s moved on by now. They’ve gotten on with their lives.” he said.

“What life? I’ve been away…. Where will they be tonight?” he asked.

“How should I know?” 

“You always know.”

“John has a dinner reservation in the Marylebone Road. Sibley will most likely be home eating chicken nuggets and watching children’s cartoons,” Mycroft said smugly. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“Cartoons?” he asked. Mycroft just smirked at him.

“Well, I’ll go by the restaurant first then John can show me to her flat.” he said.

“You know it’s possible you might not be welcome.” Mycroft said.

“No it isn’t. Well then, goodbye, brother-mine,” and with that Mycroft watched as his brother left, probably to walk into his own doom. What a show it would be.


	2. Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention it in the last chapter, but in this fic I doubled the time that Sherlock was gone

Sherlock sat at the diner table bruised from John’s attack at the restaurant. Mary sat next to John, watching their exchange. He began to explain how he faked his death, but John stopped him.

“You know, for a genius you can be remarkably thick.” he said.

“What?” Sherlock asked.

“I don’t care how you faked it, Sherlock. I wanna know why.” he insisted

“Why? Because Moriarty had to be stopped.” he insisted. John just gave him a look and it dawned on him.

“I see. Yes. ‘Why?’ That’s a little more difficult to explain.” he said.

“I’ve got all night.

“Actually, um, that was mostly Mycroft’s idea.” he stated. 

“Oh, so it’s your brother’s plan?” John asked. 

“Oh, he would have needed a confidant …” Mary said, pointing to Sherlock, he nodded and John gave her a look. She muttered an apology and put a stern face back on. 

“But he was the only one? The only one who knew?” John asked. 

“Couple of others.” he admitted. John looked down. 

“It was a very elaborate plan – it had to be.” he insisted. Now he was practically begging John without actually begging. 

“Who else knew?” he asked. 

“Molly.” Sherlock sighed. 

“Molly?” John asked angrily. 

“John.” Mary said gently. 

“Molly Hooper – and some of my homeless network, and that’s all.”

“Okay… Okay. So just your brother, and Molly Hooper, and a hundred tramps. Wait. So you didn't tell Sibley? I mean, obviously you didn't tell Sibley. Why didn't you at least tell Sibley?! Do you know how many weeks it took just for her to come out of her room? She was miserable, Sherlock!” he exclaimed. Sherlock looked down at his hands. 

“No. I was going to visit her next.” Sherlock said. John nodded and stood, fists clenched. 

“We're going together. You, me, and Mary. No way you're pulling what you pulled on me on her.” Sherlock nodded and followed John and Mary out of the diner and over to a cab. 

The trio stood on the doorstep to the small building. 218 Baker Street was a nice flat, only a few paces down from 221 Baker Street and about the same size and shape. He wasn’t quite sure why she had even moved in the first place. Away from Mrs.Hudson who gave her a generous discount and could take care of her. What was the point? In any case, he lifted his hand and knocked on the door. There was a pause before the door swung open, except no one was there. He squinted his eyes confused when he looked down.

“Hello!” a little girl, probably around three stood there looking at him in curiosity. She had thick black curls framing her face and sticking out everywhere, clearly needing a brush through it. Her eyes were a vibrant ocean blue. She was wearing a pair turquoise pajamas, the top had an image of a pink dinosaur. She was, as normal people would say, adorable.

“Willa!” Mary exclaimed leaning down to pick up the small child. 

“Willamina Scarlett Holmes! How many times have I told you not to ans-” the woman froze as she reached the little girl and stared at Sherlock with wide eyes. He gave her a smile. It was dead silent for several minutes. The child looked between all of the adults but kept her mouth shut.

“Dad… But you- you were gone, I don’t-” she stopped and held her hand to her mouth, eyes glossing over in tears, looking from him to John, to Mary who now had the small toddler on her hip. 

“Uh, so, not dead.” he said. John kicked him and he hissed. 

“Sibley, love, why don't we go in?” Mary offered. The woman nodded numbly and stepped aside to allow her guests in. Sherlock looked at the child curiously. He didn't want to believe it, but it looked like he was a grandfather. 

Of course, even with a three year old the flat didn't look too messy. First off, it was almost identical to 221, only the wallpaper was a dark purple with a white floral pattern in certain places and where the fireplace was, a flat screen sat above it. There was a small wooden table next to a maroon couch that had two mugs of hot chocolate and one maroon matching chair. Up against the back wall was a dark, wooden toy box, next to that was a child sized pink armchair. Coloring books were spread in front of it as well as an array of crayons. Other than that the rest of the toys were put up in neat places. The other difference from 221 were the photos. They were everywhere. Some of the little girl, Willa it seemed, some of the both of them together, some of Sibley and John, Willa and John. There was even one of Sibley and Sherlock from one of the times she forced him to take a selfie, he was closer to frowning then smiling, but Sibley still had it hanging up.

Sibley bit her lower lip when they stopped and paced a bit before nodding to herself. 

“S-sorry, it's Willa’s bed time, just give me a moment.” she said. 

“But Mummy, Uncle John and Aunt Mary just got here! They took the dead guy wit dem! Dead men don't walk! I wanna know how!” Willa whined from Mary’s arms. Sherlock cringed at her poor grammar and pronunciation.

“Willamina, now isn't the time.” Sibley said. Willa pointed to Sherlock who raised his eyebrows. 

“You said you wished I could meet Gramps, he's right dere!” Willa insisted. Sibley rolled her eyes and walked over, taking her from Mary. 

“Tomorrow. Bed. Now.” she said. The little girl huffed but when her mother set her on the ground she padded down the hallway and into a room. Sherlock watched as Sibley followed her.

“How old is she?” he asked, not turning his head away from the now empty hallway.

“three.” John answered.

“Didn’t expect that,” Sherlock said.

“Well, we all had to get on with our lives,” John said.

“So where’s the father? Does he pay child support?” Sherlock asked. 

“Nah. He was a punk kid, Liam was his name. Found out Sibley was pregnant and skipped town. Mycroft found him, of course, but Sibley refused to take any money or anything from the boy. She wanted no contact with him,” John explained. Sherlock glared at the ground. After several moments Sibley exited the small room, softly shutting the door behind her.

“Alright then, it’s extremely late, Willamina’s been giving me such a hard time tonight, and I’m exhausted, so don’t be complicated, I don’t have time for it,” she ordered, falling onto the couch. Everyone found a seat on one of the matching pieces of furniture. 

“So you’re alive?” she asked. 

“Seems like.” Sherlock said.

“But- I just don’t- you faked your death…. Where have you been? Why didn’t you tell me? It’s been four years.” she sighed, putting her face in her hands.

“I had to take down Moriarty’s connections. I couldn’t risk being discovered until all was said and done.” he said.

“You still could have told me. John. Mycroft.” she began.

“Mycroft already knew.” John said. Her head snapped up.

“What?!” she exclaimed.

“And Molly and his homeless network.” John ranted.

“Well you see I-” 

“Stop.” Sibley ordered. He closed his mouth and waited. Sibley stood and began to pace.

“Okay… Okay… So, you’re alive. It was fake. And Amber? What about her?” she asked, stopping to look at him with hope filled eyes. 

“Amber? She died?” Sherlock asked, now clearly scanning her expression and features to try and discover what had happened.

“Right after you fell. We ran over… One of Moriarty’s snipers just shot her dead. It was so unexpected…” Sibley shook her head and fell onto an armchair, putting her head in her hands.

“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you tell me? Do you have any idea what I went through?” she asked.

“I’m sorry.” he said.

“Of course you are, because you get to do whatever you want and just apologize later and everyone forgives you because they expect nothing less. What you don’t understand is that wasn’t- isn’t me. I expected more from you, Dad. Despite what everyone else said and believed and no matter how much of a pratt you could be, I still thought highly of you. Then you go and fake your death for four years and-” she stopped, realizing she was beginning to shout. She closed her eyes and took in a shaky breath. 

“John, Mary, could you maybe take Willa with you so that I can talk to my father?” she asked. 

“Of course.” John said, standing. He and Mary quickly got the little girl up and carried her outside. Once the door was shut, she stood. 

“So for the past four years you've been doing God knows what to take down Moriarty’s circle, I'm assuming.” she said, he nodded. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” she asked. 

“It was the safest option.” he said calmly. 

“Bullocks!” she snapped. She let out a frustrated scream. 

“Four years. I thought you were dead for four years. I was a wreck! I lost my father and my first love on the same day! John and I were both complete wrecks! Mycroft was… Well, Mycroft. It was awful, Sherlock. Do you understand?! Do you have any idea how much pain I went through? I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't function! That entire time you were alive! I went through hell trying to move on! Do you realize how already messed up my mental state was?! I grew up taking care of my drug addiction mother, moved in with my prickly father, was beaten, kidnapped, treated like dirt by said father, moved in with a Psycho, was kidnapped by said Psycho, and the I lost both you and Amber who was the only real friend I had ever had let alone lover! I was an absolute mess! I went to a mental institution!” she exclaimed. Sherlock cringed when she used his name, clearly not even aware she had done it. Now he was more focused on her last sentence. 

“What?” Sherlock asked. 

“My therapist put me on suicide watch and then decided I was just safest in a hospital. They tried to put me on antidepressants but I refused.” she sighed. He grimaced. 

“It doesn't matter. What matters is that I really needed you and you weren't there. Even if I couldn't contact you, if I had known things could have been different. I could have held onto some sort of hope but you lied so I believed you were six feet underground.” she sunk to the floor where she continued to cry. Sherlock moved to sink to the floor next to her and- awkwardly- put his arms around her, which quickly became more natural as she learned into him. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't meant to hurt you.” he said. She sighed through her tears. 

“You know, I could choose to be bitter and ignore you for a while and hold a grudge because this is the worst thing anyone has ever done to me, but I'm so tired of being angry. I know it's irrational but screw it, I forgive you.” she said.

“Really?” he asked. She was silent for a few moments. 

“No. I'm still royally pissed but I'll get over it. Now, go sleep in the guest bedroom, first door on the left. I'm gonna go get my kid, even though this will be the second time we wake her up.” she got up to walk to the front door but Sherlock stopped her. 

“Sibley?” she turned, “Her name? Willamina?” he asked. She smiled slightly.

“Willamina Scarlett Holmes. Most people call her Willa, but I much prefer her birth name,” she replied. Sherlock grinned.

“How sentimental,” he said.

“Careful,” she replied, “I believe Mycroft said the exact same thing.” with that she turned and entered her own room.

~~~

Sibley, already in her pajamas eased herself into her bed, mind beginning to wonder. Sherlock was alive. He was in her living room. She had so many questions. He probably did too. Four years, even Sherlock must be curious what had happened in his absence. First off, Sibley had a child and her body would never be the same again, but that was probably less of his concern and more something she could never stop thinking about. Then there was everything else. Willamina, Willamina’s father, the books. God, she hoped he never read the books, what would he think about her publishing his life into a hardback and selling it all over the world? Course, John did something similar so it couldn't be that big of a deal. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head. Slowly, but surely, she fell asleep. 

~~~

Sherlock awoke to a pair of blue eyes staring at him. Willamina’s hair was even more wild than the night before, tangled from sleep. Her tiny ringlets stuck out everywhere around her and Sherlock wondered why Sibley had never taken the girl to get a haircut. Willamina smirked triumphantly and nodded. 

“Mummy was right. She and I have your eyes.” she giggled. Sherlock sat up some and raised his eyebrow at her. 

“Obviously.” he said. Willamina crawled up onto the bed next to him as if it was the most wonderful thing in the world. 

“You're not dead. How'd you not die?” she questioned. 

“It's a long and complicated story of which I doubt you would be able to comprehend.” he said. The girl scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking a lot like her mother. 

“I'm not stupid. Mummy said your smartness skipped a gen-ration and now I have it.” she said.

“Generation,” Sherlock corrected, “and even so, you're much too young to fully grasp the events that took place the day of the fall.” Sherlock told her. 

“Fine.” she muttered, now beginning to bounce where she sat. Sherlock glared at her. 

“I would appreciate it if you didn't do that.” he said. She stopped and glared back at him. 

“Well I'd prees-e-ate if you told me a story.” she said.

“What kind of story?” Sherlock asked. 

“Dunno. A case!” she exclaimed. 

“Willamina.” Sibley stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame, giving her daughter a pointed stare.

“Leave your gramps alone.” she ordered. Willamina flopped back onto the bed.

“But he’s so myst-ee-ous.” she sighed.

“Mysterious, and while that may be true, now isn’t the time, he’s just woken up. Go into the living room and turn on some cartoons.” she said. Willamina sighed but slid of the bed and past her mother. 

“Do you realize she turned three two weeks ago and is uncharacteristically smart for someone who is only just out of her two’s? Why couldn’t you give me your mind?” she asked with an eye roll. Sherlock chuckled and sat up.

“Genetics often skip generations.” he said.

“In any case… Wanna go to lunch?” she asked.

“Do you want to.” he corrected. 

“And he’s back.” with that she left him room.

“I didn’t say yes!” he shouted after her.

“Don’t care!”

~~~

Willamina hummed to herself as she colored on the paper children’s menu with her very limited crayon options and the two adults looked over their own menus. 

“Gramps.” Willamina said, causing Sherlock to cringe. He really, really, didn’t like being called that.

“Yes?” he asked in a dry tone.

“‘Tective Anderson says you hired a ma-d-ician to help you trick Mumma and Uncle John. Is dat true?” she asked.

“No. Detective Anderson is an idiot you shouldn't ever listen to anything he says.” Sherlock told the small child. 

“‘Tective Anderson knows lots of things, like all the ways you could have been alive even afta Aunt Molly said you were dead.” she said.

“Willa, baby, when does he tell you this stuff?” Sibley asked, a barely noticeable hint of anger laced in her concerned tone. Willamina shrugged, oblivious.

“Whenever I see him.” she said. Sibley stood up.

“I’ll be right back, I have to make a phone call, please watch her,” with that, she disappeared. Sherlock looked down at his granddaughter. 

“Sometimes when ‘Tective Anderson tells his stories, Mummy get’s real sad. Den she yells at him.” she said.

“Do you know why?” Sherlock asked, he had an idea, but he was curious to see how perceptive the child was.

“She said it was ‘cause you weren’t coming back. I tink Anderson wants to feel less sad and Mumma doesn’t want false hope. Dat’s what makes dem different ‘cause dey both just want to be happy again, but now you’re back so it’s okay!” she said. 

“Yeah…”

“Mummy used to take me to the cem-tary where you were buried, she would tell me all kinds of stories.” Willa explained. 

“Really? Like what?” Sherlock asked.

“Like da ones about you and Uncle John solving cases. She said when people got hurt real bad by o-t-er people, you and Uncle John would find out who did it.” she said.

“When people ‘got hurt real bad’?” he asked, smirking.

“Uh-huh. She never tells me how dey were hurt, she says maybe when I’m older, but I’m already a big girl,” she frowned at the end of her sentence and Sherlock couldn’t help but chuckle. Sibley walked back in, clearly fuming.

“That idiotic, selfish, obnoxious, jerk of a man.” she muttered as she sat down.

“Yes that’s one of the many ways I would describe him,” Sherlock said. She looked up at him and sighed, frowning.

“Lestrade is one of my babysitter’s and I guess Anderson would come around sometimes and tell her his dumb theories. Him and the rest of those nutters drive me out of my mind.” she seethed.

“Is okay, Mumma, he’s just dumb.” Willa nodded, determined look on her face. Sibley smiled and let out a small laugh, reaching her hand out and brushing one of the toddlers curls behind her ear.

“Yes he is.” she said. Suddenly her phone rang and she frowned looking down at it.

“Sorry, this is my boss.” she said, answering it and holding it to her ear, not bothering to walk away this time. 

“Yeah?.... Right now?... You know I need more warning than this I have a todd- Yes of course…. Okay, fine, give me ten minutes.” she hung up and stood, gathering her things.

“I’m so sorry, I’m a journalist and there’s this big story he wants me on. I need to go, do you mind watching Willa?” she asked as she gathered her things. 

“Me?” he asked frowning. 

“Don't worry about it,” she said, pulling on her jacket, “she's easy, practically takes care of herself.” she grabbed her back and kissed Willa on the head. 

“I'll be back as soon as possible, be good for Gramps, okay?” she asked. 

“Okay Mummy.” she said. 

“Thanks Dad, just take her back to the flat, we've got everything you'll need there. I'll be back soon!” with that she was gone and Sherlock was alone with a three year old. 

~~~

Willamina was laying on the floor, eyebrows furrowed together in perfect concentration, tongue out slightly as she carefully colored in the book she had. Sherlock was watching her, hands folded underneath his chin as he lost himself in thought. Thinking about the last four years and Sibley and how she came to be a journalist. Hadn't she originally wanted to be a detective? And a journalist? Really? That was the best she could do? 

He was pulled from his thinking when the little girl he had been put in charge of let out a screech. He jumped up but stopped when he saw she was grinning and clapping as she stared out the window. 

“Aunt Molly’s here!” she squealed as she watched the pathologist get out of the cab. 

“Huh, it appears she is.” Sherlock said. 

A few short moments later Molly was at the door of the flat and Willamina was rushing to open it. Molly grinned. 

“Willa! Hello, Darling,” she cooed, lifting the child and kicking the door closed with her foot.   
“Hi Aunt Molly! What are you doin’ here?! Did you know Gramps is here! He's alive!” she cheered. 

“I did know that,” Molly chuckled, “your mummy called, she wanted me to come help your Gramps out.” she said. 

“I was doing fine.” Sherlock scowled. Molly looked around. Within the two hours Sherlock had been alone with Willamina, the house was a mess, much messier than Sibley would have ever let it get. Toys were strewn across the floor along with princess costumes and tiaras, peanut butter and jelly were smeared where Willa had eaten and breadcrumbs littered the area. It certainly was not fine, Sibley would come home and be stressed out.   
“Look at the mess you've made. It's only been two hours. Did she eat a sandwich? Didn't you already have lunch?” she asked. 

“I was hungry.” Willa said. Molly looked over at her. 

“What's all over your face? Chocolate?” she asked. Willa nodded, grinning. 

“Gramps let me have two whole bowls of ice cream!” she exclaimed, fists in the air. Molly set her down, sighing. 

“Suppose she deserves this, leaving you alone with no instructions with her child. I am surprised though, Sibley doesn't leave Willamina with just anyone.” Molly said. 

“I'm not just anyone, I'm her father.” he said. 

“Who's been gone for three years. Besides, she won't even leave her alone with Mycroft.” she said, beginning to pick up the toys. 

“No one with intelligence would leave their child with Mycroft.” he said. Molly rolled her eyes. 

“In any case, I'm going to go give Willamina a bath and put her down for an N-A-P. Start cleaning up, Sibley can't stand a messy flat.” she said, spelling out nap. Willa crossed her arms. 

“I can spell. I'm not stupid.” she said. Molly chuckled and led the girl back into the bathroom and got her cleaned up. 

~

Once the flat was cleaned and Willamina was in bed, Molly flopped into the armchair, eyeing Sherlock suspiciously. 

“She loves you. Talked about you for the entirety of the bath and while I tried to get her to lay down.” she said. 

“Children will talk about anything new like that, eventually she'll get bored and move on.” Sherlock said. 

“Hm, wonder who that sounds like,” Molly teased. He shot her a glare and she smiled. Suddenly the door opened and they looked up, expecting Sibley. 

Mycroft stopped when he saw the other two and straightened, quickly replacing his confused expression with his normal tight lipped not frown but not a smile either. 

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Sibley called. Asked to talk.” he said. 

“She's not even home.” Molly said. 

“She must be on her way then.” Mycroft said. 

“I have a feeling this is a trap.” Sherlock said. At that moment, Sibley entered the room. 

“Oh good, the three of you are here.” she said. 

“What is this?” Mycroft asked. 

“This is me talking to you. And for you Holmes men that prefer to talk and talk to everyone else are for once going to sit and listen.” she said, she turned to Sherlock. 

“I know last night I said I didn't want to be mad and I was going to try and get over it, but as the day goes by, I find myself wanting stab you. As for you two, I can not believe you kept this from me. I just need to know, did any of you think of me? At all? Did anyone care what this put me through?” she asked. Mycroft sighed. 

“Sibley, Sherlock and I made a decision with your best interest in mind. There is no need to be dramatic about it.” he said. 

“Mycroft! Dramatic? Seriously? You wanna talk drama? You put together a funeral! Molly you told me he was dead! Dad, you jumped off a building. That's drama! Staging a death and everything that follows! You let people grieve! You let me and John-” 

“John and I,” Sherlock corrected. She picked up a random baby doll and hurled it at him. He ducked just in time. 

“Shut up! You let John and I grieve! It was misery. Molly you watched me spiral down and did nothing! I could have been fine, I could have kept going! All I needed to know was that he was alive. Believe me, I don't want to be angry, I've tried all day but I'm consumed by so much anger and hurt! You wouldn't understand that though, would you? Because emotions are bad and caring is a disadvantage or whatever but I care and I have emotions and I'm not ashamed of it! I was in so much pain and no one said anything. You people let me suffer.” she was crying and snarling. Willa had come out and was now clinging to her mother's leg. 

“I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to wake you from your nap.” she whispered, leaning over and picking her up. Willa tucked her head into the crook of Sibley’s neck. 

“It's okay, Mummy. Why you sad? Is it cause dey lied?” she asked. Sibley nodded. 

“Yes.” she said quietly. Willamina loomed at the three other adults who seemed to be stunned into silence. 

“Mummy doesn't like it when people lie. She says it's wrong.” she said. Molly swallowed. 

“She's right. It is wrong.” Molly replied. Sibley sighed and plopped down into her arm chair, cradling Willa against her, running her fingers through the child's hair. 

“I'm done now. I think- I think I just need time.” she said. Sherlock nodded. 

“Please go.” she said. The three looked at each other and eventually stood and left the house. 

“Mummy?” Willamina asked. 

“Yes baby girl?” she asked. 

“I wuv you.” she said. Sibley smiled and kissed the crown of the child’s head. 

“Love you too, princess.”


End file.
